


When Death Knocks

by sherlollyship



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1889433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlollyship/pseuds/sherlollyship





	When Death Knocks

One morning, Sherlock strode into the bright white lab, it was a morning like every other morning. 

"Molly, I´ll need more information about this victim." 

He walked hastily over to the pale body laying on the slab and started his examination. He worked his way from his toes and up to the head, careful not to miss a single detail.

Bachelor, has a long way to work, does not own a car, is doing worse than he has previously.

“Molly?” He tried again impatiently. 

He turned to see that Molly wasn’t in the lab. He frowned. He checked his watch; 11:30. She was supposed to be here. He sighed annoyed. She never missed a day of work and he was sure he hadn’t gotten a text message. 

Sherlock went to inquire after Lestrade, he would surely know where she was, maybe he had managed to drag her into his office to attempt to flirt with her again. He snorted at the idea, Lestrade didn´t have a chance. His failed attempts to make any romantic impression on her always lightened Sherlock´s mood.

He turned a corner and ran right into Lestrade, making the man spill his coffee. 

"Sorry!" Lestrade apologised, Sherlock of course, made no such attempt. 

He looked blankly at Greg´s face. An uncomfortable feeling stirred within the consulting detective and his heart swelled dangerously. The look of Lestrade was pitiful. His face looked to have sunk and his were eyes tired with worry. He hadn’t even bothered to scold Sherlock about being careful. 

Greg dabbed his coffee drenched shirt with his too small napkin. It was of no help and he soon accepted that he was going to smell like cheap powder coffee all day. He through the crumpled napkin towards a nearby bin and missed by a yard. He shrugged, not wasting his energy by picking it up. The cleaning lady would take it.

Sherlock was getting more worried. He bent down slightly to get a more detailed view of his face. Greg´s eyes were sorry and his mouth drooped, knowing that the brilliant man in front of him would soon understand. 

Sherlock took a step back, like a blow had hit him right in the chest. 

"What´s happened to Molly? Where is she? How bad is it?" His eyes searched desperately for an answer. 

Greg gathered himself and sent Sherlock another pitiful glance.

"Molly was at the doctors yesterday." He began.

"She didn´t tell me that!" He protested. Greg sighed.

"She has cancer Sherlock. She´s terminal."

Lestrade closed his eyes shut, restraining his tears. He brought his hand to his face and hid his deeply hurt expression. He heaved for air and tears trickled involuntarily down his cheeks. Little sobs escaped occasionally and his attempts to compose himself failed dreadfully. 

Meanwhile, Sherlock stood frozen in shock. His eyes were fixed on his friend who was having an emotional breakdown. Sherlock appeared nearly calm, but inside him, all was shattered, his heart seemed to fall to his feet and his entire body maimed by pain. He managed to mumble a few denying, incomprehensible words. 

His breathing too became heavy and his eyes darted back and forth like a trapped animal. He fell back against the wall to support his body, for he would surely have fallen if he had not. 

After around ten minutes the men´s mood changed, Lestrade was calm and sulking and Sherlock, on the contrary felt angry and cheated. Why hand´t she bothered to tell him? Why did Lestrade know? And why was the world being so sickeningly cruel?

He left his colleague and ran out into the street. He hailed a cab and directed it to Molly´s apartment. She must have gone home, he imagined. The disease wouldn’t have had so much affect that she would need to stay at the hospital yet. 

Without thinking, he threw his wallet at the cabby and hurried out of the car. He didn´t bother to knock. He found the key under the matt that she kept there and ran up the stairs into her apartment.

He found Molly sitting in her sofa, she was reading some panthlet she must have gotten at the hospital. Her figure was slouched, tired. 

She turned her head towards him when she heard the floorboards creek under his feet. 

Her eyes were red from crying and her faced blotched from the tears. Still she managed a brave smile. He stood still, he had half expected to find her dead on her floor even though he knew it was far beyond logical, the word terminal was as good as the word dead.

"You heard then." She rather stated than asked. 

He nodded and swallowed hard, keeping his pressing tears down. 

"Why didn´t you tell me?" His tone of voice disobeyed him and he stammered.

Molly stared at him in disbelief and dread at seeing how deeply affected he was. When someone who so rarely shows emotion suddenly casts all veils aside, it cuts deeper, the feeling becomes more real and raw. 

"I..I don´t know. It´s hard telling anyone at all. I only told Greg so I could have my day off. I assume he told you."

"Yes." His tone grave.

It took time before either of them managed to say anything more at all. Sherlock ransomed his mind for information and the right things to say, but the darkness infiltrated his head like a virus, his mind palace shook, unstable. Finally he managed to ask another question.

"How long do you have?" 

He flinched at his own words, a seeding pain shot through him like a bullet and he bent his head in anguish. Molly´s face broke into a helplessly sad expression. Silent sobs escaped her lips and inevitable tears formed in her eyes.

"Three months." 

The desperately sad man looked up at the petite woman and imagined what would come. The many stages of her sickness flashed before him and the ruin of the precious human being sitting so little on her couch. His breaths became heavy again and he stumbled to her sofa and fell down on it beside her, burying his face in his palms.

After some sobs and many tears, he gathered himself, he calmed down. Molly laid her little hand on his shoulder to comfort him. He smiled weakly.

"You´re not supposed to be comforting me." 

She laughed through her own tears and Sherlocks lips smiled at the wonderful sound. 

"So what are you going to do? You have approxiamtely two months left of normal mobility."

She looked into his blue-green eyes. Although seeing the man she loved so utterly crushed made her beyond sad, she felt very moved, this was not what she had expected. Honestly she thought he would cast her aside, seeing that she was of no use anymore. He had told her that she mattered, but experience had always said against him. She hand´t dare believe him. But the curly haired man beside her was far from unaffected, he was devastated. 

She hand´t thought of what she would do with her time, she had been too busy thinking about the end of it. The world was suddenly opened to her, restricted by time, but open. What she did would have little consequence, at least for herself. She could do what she wanted really, courage was no longer needed, because fear had been banished from her mind. Dying seemed far away, the present so much more real.

"Sherlock, I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." She looked at him lovingly, but stern to show she was being serious.

He gaped at first and then he shut his mouth silent. She looked at him questioningly.

He had not expected this, and inward battle between the poison of pain and the sweetness that was love stopped him from moving, there was too much happening inside, his feelings hard to separate from each other. Finally he did what required no words, he kissed her. 

Her lips tasted of salt and he felt his own tears dropping onto her. He held his hands around her, holding her tight, refusing to let her go. The feeling he felt was something like excitement, an instinct to nurture, desire and pain. His mind ached. 

They stayed like that for a long time, finding comfort in each other. Molly pulled away carefully and Sherlock let her halfheartedly slide out of his arms.

"Then what should we do? I have a companion, now where should we go?"

"I believe you have more people to tell and more to bid goodbye to." His own words stung in his heart. "But after that I´ll go with you wherever you like. We can travel, we can stay at home, solve crimes, cut up cadavers, whatever you want."

She laughed at his last proposals.

"I think I´d like to stay at Bakerstreet, with you."

He smiled too, there was nothing he wanted more in the world than just that.


End file.
